


Hanni and the Pumpkin King

by thecountessolivia



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Halloween, M/M, Pumpkins, Surreal Silliness, Will the Tiny Pumpkin King, pocket!Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 07:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11824026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecountessolivia/pseuds/thecountessolivia
Summary: Hannibal stared into the pumpkin, utterly speechless. The small man inside the giant gourd stared back, with equal measure of fright and indignation.There is now aPart 2of this fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Repost of another deleted fic. Apols for removing the original.

"I've got just the pumpkin for you, Dr. Lecter!"  
  
The man gestured for Hannibal to follow him through the sprawling patch.

It was a fine October day, crisp enough to steam Hannibal's breath. A clear blue sky domed the gourd fields and the air danced in Hannibal's nostrils with the scent of dying foliage and straw. Hannibal, too, was in a fine mood. Tonight a full moon would shine brightly over his bloody harvest feast.

The farmer had supplied Hannibal with produce for some years now and had always had the good sense to carefully consider his best customer's very particular requirements. Tonight's dinner party would feed ten, Hannibal himself included. Each of the seven courses called for the use the season's finest orange fruit. A considerable mass of the freshest pumpkin flesh would be needed.

Hannibal was led to the edge of the field where, enthroned proudly on a pyramid of hay bales, sat a pumpkin so spectacular as to elicit from Hannibal a deeply uncharacteristic, unspoken "wow".

"Only just picked this morning, Dr. Lecter. Reserved for you as soon as we knew you were coming. Whaddya think?"

Hannibal circled the impressively swelled gourd, examining it. The pumpkin seemed to reign over its fellows: it had grown to at least five times their average size. Moreover it was unblemished, nearly perfectly spherical and blindingly orange. A curly, thick stem crowned it. Hannibal was in love.

"I will take it, thank you. Please have it delivered at once."

There was to be no chance of having Hannibal lug the monstrous pumpkin into the trunk of the Bentley himself. Hannibal preferred to preserve his strength for the hauling of bodies.

Hannibal's feast preparations were well under way when the pumpkin arrived on his doorstep. It took two men to bring it inside and set it down on the protective mat Hannibal had spread on the kitchen floor - a set up normally reserved for cadavers. The regal fruit was much too vast to be carved up atop his counters.

Hannibal tipped the men, sent them on their way then stood back to admire his purchase. Its flesh couldn't have been destined for a better fate. Sage and pumpkin gnocchi (to accompany the flank of a rude accountant); pumpkin velouté with toasted pumpkin seeds and Gruyère (bone stock made from aforementioned accountant); and pumpkin flan in a maple bourbon glaze (vegetarian). These were but a few of the creations Hannibal had planned for the evening's festivities.

Hannibal adjusted his rolled up sleeves, took up his finest Damascus steel and knelt before the gourd. He grasped it firmly by the curly stem. The blade slid in.

"What the - what the FUCK? Help!!!"

Hannibal staggered back on his knees and sank down to the floor, leaving the knife lodged in the pumpkin's skin. He closed his eyes. He counted. He tried to reason. But there was to be no denying what had just occurred.

The scream had come from inside the pumpkin.


	2. Chapter 2

As he reached once more for the knife's handle, a sense of unreality marred Hannibal's usually sparkling-sharp senses. As with the troubled heads of his patients, there would be no resisting the urge to peer inside the pumpkin. The screams resumed, as profanity-laced and outraged as before, then faded to fearful whimpers. By the time the tip of his blade had circumnavigated the gourd, all Hannibal could hear from within were tiny shaking breaths.

With a hand that bordered on unsteady, Hannibal reached for the stem. The other he kept clasped about the knife, poised.

The carved lid resisted, then popped off. The fresh scent of fear and pumpkin flooded the air. Hannibal stared inside, utterly speechless.

The small man inside the giant gourd stared back, with equal measure of fright and indignation.

He could not have been more than twelve inches tall, though that was a loose guess on Hannibal's part, for the man had crouched behind a slimy curtain of pumpkin seeds. It was a poor cover and Hannibal saw that the frightened resident was dressed not unlike the men who had carried the pumpkin into Hannibal's house: in simple, plain workwear. The eyes that squinted up at Hannibal, blazing still with rage and terror, were very blue.

"Close me back up, you giant psycho!"

Hannibal raised his eyebrows. He considered that he could simply reach in, snap the tiny man's neck and get on with preparing his dishes. Yet a deep curiosity held him in thrall of the pumpkin's resident and the idea was rapidly dismissed. Still, the clock was ticking inexorably towards dinnertime and he wasn't about to surrender his star ingredient.

With a gentle hand and a surgeon's care, he reached into the pumpkin, intent on capturing and extracting its trembling occupant. The man cowered. When Hannibal's fingers were nearly on him, he lashed out and jabbed the pointy end of a pumpkin seed into Hannibal's thumb.

Hannibal retreated. He glanced down appreciatively at the bead of blood brought up by the seed assault. So - a tiny force to be reckoned with. Hannibal was impressed. He decided on a more delicate approach.

"I apologize for violating your home in this way, but I wasn't aware you were within."

"Yeah, well, you should have knocked," huffed the man and hugged both arms around himself. "And you could have fucking stopped when you heard me screaming!"

Hannibal restrained his amusement.

"If I may ask: what is your name?"

The man glared up, now more unimpressed than frightened.

"Will."

"And I am Hannibal Lecter. Will, may I also ask why you are living inside this very large and very beautiful pumpkin?"

The tiny man called Will frowned and passed a hand over his mouth. He glanced about the pumpkin, as if trying to recall something important.

"I -- I think I may be the King."

"Of pumpkins?"

"Yes!" Will exclaimed with both irritation and relief. His chest puffed a bit, proudly.

Hannibal bowed his head slowly, with due respect.

"I am honored to make your acquaintance."


	3. Chapter 3

Hannibal settled cross-legged beside the occupied fruit and considered his next steps.

Will the Pumpkin King, he quickly decided, had not yet lived up to his full potential. His residence was pitiful. He'd managed to clear back some of the stringy fibrous strands which lined the pumpkin and braid from them a kind of unsturdy hammock in which to sleep. Beside this poor bed was a mountain of discarded seed shells, gnawed and dried.

"Will," Hannibal kept his tone even and unthreatening. "Tell me how you sustain yourself inside your home."

Will had emerged from behind his seed curtain and was pacing about the pumpkin's slimy floor, casting untrusting glares up at Hannibal. He waved dejectedly at the seed pile.

"The... the seeds are okay to eat," Will's tiny pink mouth twisted. "The mushy stuff is pretty bland."

Hannibal noted the small dent in the pumpkin shell where the pulp had been half-heartedly nibbled.

"It is indeed. But only in its unprepared state. Properly seasoned and served, pumpkin flesh is a delectable treat."

Will swallowed.

"Yeah?" His manner was softening from trepidation to nervous skepticism.

Hannibal could smell his hunger. He began to form a plan.

"Yes. And I'd be more than happy to prove this to you, if you would be willing to share with me some of the pulp."

The skepticism on Will's face had deepened. He frowned.  
"I'll only need a handfu-- about as much as you can carry," Hannibal reassured.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay, I guess."

Will used his weaponised seed to carve out a cube of pumpkin flesh - it took him some time and effort. He hauled it over and lifted it above his head with a tiny grunt of strain. Hannibal's fingers plucked it gingerly from his hands.

"I am now going to slide the lid back on. I'll return in a few minutes."

Will shrugged and slumped against a pumpkin wall. Hannibal replaced the lid, tightly enough to ensure his new companion wouldn't entertain the thoughts of an escape.

Hannibal put the pulp in a bowl and, having added in a pinch of muscovado sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg, puréed it finely. He poured in a few trickles of warmed cream whisked with an egg yolk and three drops of whiskey. The mixture came together into a nourishing, faintly orange eggnog.

After a brief search through a drawer of haberdashery, Hannibal chose a carved silver and copper thimble for a fitting chalice. He uncovered the pumpkin lid and presented the beverage to Will with great ceremony.

Will hesitated and gave the thimble a cautious sniff. The spiced alcoholic warmth must have agreed with him, because he licked his lips, grabbed the drink with both hands and emptied it with greedy gulps. Hannibal looked on, pleased.

"Will, am I right in guessing that you, the Pumpkin King, have yet to reign outside the confines of..." Hannibal momentarily considered the most appropriate term. "...your royal keep?"

Will wiped at his beard and checked the thimble for any remaining drops.

"No, I'm pretty sure I've always lived here," he cast a sour look up at Hannibal. "Though you've sort of ruined that for me now."

"It does appear I have damaged your home beyond repair. But as you've seen, we can at least put its remnants to a delicious use. And meanwhile, I can offer you accommodations equally befitting your state."

Will looked unconvinced.

"You're gonna tell me you've got another pumpkin this size somewhere up your sleeve? I don't think so."

"You're right, this pumpkin is irreplaceable. But I believe I can do better still. If you'll excuse me for another moment."

Hannibal replaced the lid once more and went to seek out the mahogany box which held some of his drawing supplies. The lid was slotted with ornate carvings and, conveniently, could be locked if need be. Hannibal emptied the box and lined it with his finest cashmere scarf. He brought it back into the kitchen and set it down beside the pumpkin, to ease and shorten the transfer.

"Will. I am going to reach down once more and help you to your new home. I'll need you to trust me."

Will's breath shook nervously. He was flushed from the drink's warmth and Hannibal admired the newfound color in his cheeks.

"Okay. Okay, do it."

Hannibal lowered his hand slowly into the pumpkin, cupping his fingers to form a seat. Will threw a glance back at his abandoned seed-sword then, determined, stepped forward and lowered himself onto Hannibal's fingers. His tiny form was trembling and warm. He held on tight to Hannibal's thumb as they began their ascent. He kept his eyes pinched shut during the journey into the big wide world.

"You may open your eyes now, Will. You are safe again."

Will's eyes snapped open and he peered wildly about the box. He stared down at the cashmere lining and quickly kicked off his boots to knead at the fabric with his bare feet. He whistled appreciatively. He paced over to one mahogany wall and gave it a few knocks to ascertain its strength.

"I guess this is all right. You can close it up, though. Right?" He looked nervous again.

"Of course I can, Will. And you only need to knock if you require anything. I will be preoccupied for much of tonight, but perhaps it is wise for you to rest now in any case. Tomorrow is All Hallows' Eve, an auspicious day for your kind, I should think?"

Will stilled upon hearing Hannibal mention the holiday. He looked up and nodded his agreement with grave reverence.

"Yeah. It's a really important time. Look, I don't wanna be rude but I really need to-- I'm starting to think it might've been time for me to come out of my pumpkin." He sounded slightly apologetic.

"I believe I understand. And I am honored and fortunate to have been the one to find you."

Will looked relieved. He had settled down in a corner of the box and was pulling an edge of Hannibal's scarf over himself.

"Okay, thanks, that would be really helpful. Hey... could I maybe get a refill?" He had held on to the thimble during his journey into the box and now waved it about hopefully.

"Of course you can." Hannibal gave him an indulgent smile and took the offered object from a tiny hand.

Will drained the second drink more slowly than the first. He looked sleepy and contemplative. Hannibal resisted the urge to reach in and smooth a fingertip over his dark curls.

"The moon... I think I've dreamt about it. It's the round and big and bright thing, right?"

"Yes. It should be exceptionally bright tomorrow."

"Good." Will's words were stretched over yawns now. He curled himself beneath the scarf and, still clutching the thimble, let his eyes flutter closed.

Hannibal gazed into the box for some minutes, watching Will's breath rise and fall. Then he slowly lowered the lid over the tiny sleeping form of the Pumpkin King.

It may have been the night before Halloween but Hannibal felt like a child on Christmas morning.


End file.
